


The Three of Them

by banana_thief



Category: Original Work
Genre: Action/Adventure, Adventure, Anal Sex, Bisexuality, Comedy, Dark Past, Enemies to Lovers, Explicit Sexual Content, Fantasy, Fluff and Smut, Gay Sex, Kissing, Lost Love, M/M, Magic, Marriage, Minor Violence, Mutual Pining, Oral Sex, Original Character(s), Original Fiction, POV Multiple, Parody, Porn With Plot, Quests, Rimming, Romance, Sex, Slice of Life, Slow Burn, Smut, Strong Female Characters, Swords & Sorcery, Time Skips, True Love, Vignette
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-30
Updated: 2019-01-07
Packaged: 2019-09-02 11:18:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16785925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/banana_thief/pseuds/banana_thief
Summary: Birger (banished from his home and his lover) is seeking redemption, by any means necessary. Avery (mage and archer extrodinare) is following a monk, whilst sleeping with as many bards as possible along the way. Sachie (a hunter turned cleric) is on a quest to find a powerful relic. These are the adventures of the three of them.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These are a series of vignettes intentionally told in an unchronological order. There’s an overall major plot to all of these random vignettes. Think of them like slice-of-life episodes, each delving into the character’s backstory, and each contributing to the main overall narrative.

**The Three of Them**

1

Birger slumped against a tree and watched as Avery delivered a long-winded slew of curses and bellyaches into the twilight sky. Avery whirled around, flicking his backsword haphazardly about. His feathered hat fell onto the damp soil, and the Tatran quickly stooped down to pick it up. He examined the gaudy accessory with a sour face.  
“You’re overreacting,” Birger said softly. He closed his eyes and crossed his arms over his silver breastplate. He had his cowl up to keep the chill off his neck.  
Avery stopped his tirade and peered over his shoulder at the unmoving knight.  
Birger continued, with a bit of a smile, “After all, everyone knows a gray mage is just a jack-of-all-trades, a master of none.” And within seconds, Birger felt that sharp pinch of danger in the air. With his eyes still closed he stood upright just as he heard a steadfast crack beside his left cheek. He opened his eyes—and peripherally saw—an arrow nestled close to his head; it was buried deep into the trunk behind him, and immediately felt his rage pleat inside him.  
Sachie touched her forehead and shook her head. “Oh no,” she muttered.  
“What was that?” Avery bellowed, hands gripping his golden bow, and clearly pleased with himself. “You were saying?” He marched over to Birger, almond eyes narrowed. “Lucky for you, and unlike you, I’m not keen on killing, but trust and believe I could easily do you in,” he said, low and deep as he yanked his arrow out of the trunk. He was about to say more, but Birger silenced and immobilized him with a wave of his hand.  
“Birger! Stop! That can’t be good for him,” Sachie said as she rushed over to grip Avery’s frozen form.  
“No way. I should leave him like this. Do the world a favor.”

End.

2

The imp jumped onto Avery’s back and yanked on his long, raven-black braid.  
“GAH help me! Help me!” Avery thrashed about; he slammed his rear into the cave’s wall, trying everything to get the magical creature off of him.  
Birger snorted as he stuck down one imp after another, he dodged a wayward fireball from Avery and deflected a surprise strike from a sneakier imp with his shield.  
Sachie casted an impressive light spell, causing the imps to scatter, except for the one latched onto Avery.  
“I think it likes you!” Birger teased, watching the archer struggle with the tiny creature. “Maybe he thinks you’re his father.”  
“HA HA HA,” Avery mocked, wrestling with the damned thing. “Gods’ help me!” He tripped and stumbled backward, nearly falling into a hidden pit. But Birger sprinted and grabbed the archer’s wrist—saving him. The imp viciously pulled at Avery’s braid, trying to drag him into the darkness.  
“Damn it’s persistent,” Birger whispered, raising his sword.  
Avery went rigid on his back. “What are you doing?” His eyes went wide. “No Birger, please! Please!”  
“I can’t reach it, it’s the only way,” the knight said, with a small smile and a glimmer of glee in his eyes.  
“No! Not my ha—“ But it was too late, Birger had swung down and severed the braid. He watched as the imp fell into the darkness along with the long bundle of hair.  
Avery lay in shock. His trembling bejeweled hand went to his dark locks, now uneven and short. And he screamed.

“There. All better! You look handsome,” Sachie said kindly, admiring her handiwork. She tucked the shears into a pouch and brushed Avery’s tiny rebellious hairs off of her.  
Avery grumbled as he ran his hands over his freshly cropped hair. “Gods,” he said as he stood up and ran over to his satchel. He pulled out a mirror and stared at his reflection.  
The knight and the hunter watched him silently; unsure of how he’d react. But he just stood there, gazing intently at his double.  
Birger huffed, “Well do you like it or not?”  
Avery grinned. “I love it.”

End.

3

The massive undead creature swung its axe downward, slicing through Avery’s chest. Sachie screamed and conducted a blinding beam of magic that smashed right into the creature’s stomach, hurling it backwards and knocking the wind out of it.  
Satisfied with the state of the undead enemy, Birger looked over at his fallen comrade, he felt worry grip his chest as the archer lay face down in the mud. Sachie ran over and clung to his back.  
“Should we move him?” Her face tightened with dismay. “I can’t heal him if I can’t see what’s wrong.”  
Birger knelt beside her. He looked for a pool of blood but found none so he gently took the archer into his arms and rolled him over. Birger used his tattered cape to wipe the mud off Avery’s face. Sachie touched and assessed the archer’s chest—she blinked at Birger in shock.  
“What’s wrong?” Holding Avery in his right arm, Birger used his free hand to examine the damage. He traced his fingers along the huge split in Avery’s leather tunic, he pushed away the cotton underneath, and... “Mythril,” Birger gasped.  
Sachie’s eyebrows rose very high and she smiled, snorting down a laugh.  
Birger dropped him back into the mud, which squelched under Avery’s limp body.  
“This bastard’s been wearing mythril armor this whole time?!” Birger straddled Avery and ripped open his tunic to get a better view of the silver and white splendor.  
“I wonder where he got it,” Sachie said, tilting her head.  
Birger huffed, “I wonder how he got it.”  
Avery stirred in the mud. “Owww shit,” he groaned, groggily gripping his chest.  
Sachie raised her hand to heal him, but Birger quickly stopped her. “Don’t you dare, let the little sneak suffer.”

End.

4

Birger watched in insufferable impuissance as Avery became enchanted. Their opposing crew of bandits had a dancer in their midst—a particularly gifted one. Birger was entirely drained of his magic; he knew Avery and Sachie had to be as well. The dancer swayed and twirled and was as diaphanous as ether... Birger looked away, panting at the effort.  
“Avery! You stupid idiot! Stop!” Birger screamed. He knew it’d be too risky to rush into the bandits’ lineup. He kept his sword sheathed and his jaw clenched. Despite knowing the outcome, he raised his hand to halt time and (just as predicted) absolutely nothing happened. Birger eyed the forest for Sachie but he couldn’t find her. He tilted his head at her disappearance.  
Avery sauntered towards the dancer. A sloppy smile on his face as he picked off his various rings and earrings, followed by his necklace and bracer. He was completely unfazed by Birger’s urgent shrieking as he peeled off his jacket and tunic—exposing his gleaming mythril and receiving a delighted gasp from the bandits ahead.  
“At this rate, they’ll strip him of everything,” Birger muttered as he grabbed the hilt of his sword. But before he could unsheathe his blade a rather large hunting knife zipped thru the air and straight into the leader’s neck. Everyone watched as he choked on his words, as his hand limply reacted and as he fell onto the hard earth. The dancer paused wide-eyed, and Avery stood mid-strip slowly blinking—quietly gathering his senses. Birger ran over and grabbed the archer, pulling his body close to his own.  
“Wha—” was all Avery could manage out as he touched his forehead, his face tight with confusion.  
“Shut up.” Birger clung to the younger man and drew out his sword, searching for the source of the assault.  
And then Sachie came out, fast and silent with a diving elbow drop to the smallest bandit. She dropkicked the dancer, shooting them into some bushes. She turned and close-lined a more daring fellow and head-butted the tallest thug. She quickly and skillfully took out one member after another in a series of kicks, submissions, and throws.  
It was remarkable. Birger smirked.

End.

5

The three of them had gathered enough funds from their hunts to buy dinner and rent two rooms at a hostelry. After eating her fill, Sachie excused herself from the table and made her way upstairs to her room. Avery and Birger sat side-by-side and ate their food in content silence. Tucked away in a corner, a bard strummed her lute and softly sang an account of ancient saviors. Soft conversations from the various patrons complemented the bard’s playing as the barkeep wiped down his steins and the fireplace cozily crackled.  
The door to the hostelry opened bringing in the chill from the snowfall outside. Birger looked up from his bowl and watched as Prince Emery and his entourage funneled inside. He softy nudged Avery with his elbow.  
Avery slurped up some noodles and shifted his eyes upwards. He swallowed hard and groaned—his fine face twisting into a grimace.  
Prince Emery brushed the snow off of his shoulders and onto the sawdust covered floor. He looked around in dismay at the lodge, his eyes caught Avery’s and Avery quickly looked down and cursed his gods.  
The prince shrugged off his fur coat (one of his guards grabbed it before it could touch the floor) and moseyed over in his tall boots, adjusting his heavily embroidered bolero jacket, the tails of his colorful sash brushing against his absurd bulge. Birger held in a laugh—Emery’s pants were always ridiculously tight on him. Even in this biting cold Emery just had to show off his... well everything.  
Prince Emery parked his well-defined ass on top of their table, right by Avery’s bowl of soup and noodles.  
“Oh Avery, how delightful. We meet again!”  
Avery took a long swig of his ale. He didn’t make eye contact and continued eating as if no one were talking to him.  
Emery continued, “It’s like the gods keep bringing us together.”  
Birger snorted. Avery’s face blanched, he stopped eating and stared off into some void, he did that for a moment, and then continued eating, and Birger noticed a tiny vein protruding near his temple.  
The Prince shifted and bent forward, bringing his high cheeks and barely rouged lips near Avery’s ear. “How about you and I retire to a room upstairs?”  
Avery sighed something heavy and gave an objective noise.  
Prince Emery pulled back, he ran a hand through his own blond curly locks and whined, “No?” He reached behind him and dropped a tiny velvet pouch onto the wooden table. The coins inside were loud and obvious.  
Avery looked up at the prince, his face void of any emotion. “Money? Really?”  
Emery smirked, and Birger’s heart pounded. Avery wouldn’t give in, right? The archer hated prince Emery—every run-in with him had turned sour after all. Birger looked away. Avery pushed his chair back and stood. Birger frowned at the motion and he turned to scold Avery’s decision.  
But then Avery silently grabbed his bowl and his ale. He walked across the room and parked himself in the corner next to the curious bard. He sat his ale on the dusty floor and continued eating.  
Birger raised his eyebrows in shock and glanced over at the prince.  
A devious smile stretched across Emery’s face as he swiped up his pouch.

End.


	2. Chapter 2

6

They stumbled across a secluded lagoon, surrounded by boulders, veiled by a thick grove. The afternoon was a warm one, the sky bright and clear.

Sachie gasped with joy at the sight of the sparkling lagoon. She zig-zagged her way to the water’s edge, where she plopped her possessions down and undressed. Leaving only her underwear on, she cannonballed into the still liquid—vanished—and resurfaced with a satisfied, “Aaahh...” She then proceeded to float on her back; lost in whatever mental paradise she created for herself.

Birger spotted a mound of grass under a drooping tree. Suddenly conscious of his tired feet and back, he walked over to the area, and placed his sword and scuffed shield down. He then peeled off his sweaty cowl and his various accessories—feeling lighter and lighter with each release. He stripped down to his underwear, glad to be free of his grimy garments, and stretched. He arranged his cowl onto the grass and sat on top of it. The gentle slope under him provided him with a comfortable position and he sighed aloud with content—ready to soak in the silence and enjoy the gentle heat.

Much to his dismay, Avery joined him under his swaying tree.

“You’re not going in?” Avery asked, pointing a thumb over to the lagoon. Birger remained silent as he watched the archer.

Avery carefully placed his bag and bow down onto the ground. He pulled off his hat and sat it on top of his bag. He proceeded to slowly take off his gloves, jacket, mythril, everything.

Birger looked away. “I just want to relax right now,” he said, expecting Avery to get the hint and leave him alone.

But he didn’t. And Birger was forced to listen to Avery’s insistent chattering as he continued to undress and neatly pile his clothing and gear all around. Birger closed his eyes, willing the archer away. He went quiet and the knight wondered if he’d acquired a new talent, but as he opened his eyes Avery was still there—now in his underclothing—prone right beside him. Birger opened his mouth, poised for a verbal battering, but instead he side-eyed the Tatran and surveyed the strange art on his body. Avery’s chest and arms were covered with intricate designs—thick, black swirling line work. Birger sat up, still staring, lost in the patterns, lost in thought.

“Like what you see?”

Birger’s eyes locked onto Avery’s. The two men heard Sachie’s soft, far-off splashing.

Birger grumbled, and the archer let out a boyish laugh.

“They’re familial,” Avery said looking down at his toned arms. “Tattoos passed down in my clan. All Tatran nobles have them done. They’re holy, for protection, or some shit.” He lazily reached over for his satchel and pulled out a pink citrus fruit. He didn’t bother sitting up as he peeled the fruit’s flesh on top of his belly.

“ _You’re_ nobility?” Birger muttered, unbelieving. He stared off at Sachie as she floated. “Huh.” He grabbed his bag and dug around. He pulled out the small dog-eared picture he found on Prince Emery’s person. It was a portrait of Avery—dressed in rich layers—Birger flipped the card over. Avery de Miastko was scribbled on the back.

“Why did Emery have this on him?” Birger asked, showing his companion.

Avery shot up. “WHAT? THAT FUCKING FREAK.” He snatched the photo away and glared at it.

Birger was beyond amused. “Well?”

Avery’s face darkened as he stuffed some peeled fruit into his mouth. He chewed angrily as he shoved the photo away—deep into his bag. He looked at Birger. “What?”

Birger grinned and Avery swallowed and sighed. “It’s a long story.”

“Oh. But you _love_ talking. Tell me,” Birger teased.

“No, leave me alone,” Avery said and stood. He made his way over to the lagoon and jumped in.

End.

7

The fog was thick and turbid with magic as they entered the Traum Woods. It smelled ancient, and the groaning trees observed the trio as they quietly made their way through the neglected path.

“I can’t see shit,” Avery muttered, on edge with his bow and arrow ready. “Are you sure it’s here?”

“Definitely,” said Sachie. She walked slowly, knees bent, hunting knife at the ready. “Mostly.”

“I heard these woods house celestial beings,” Avery said, his eyes watching the looming trees overhead. “Heard they’re weird looking.”

Birger grimaced; he too had heard of these celestial beings, they were formidable sentinels. “Where is it exactly?” He trailed Sachie and Avery as they snaked around crumbled silver pillars and bleached fragments of a building. Birger gripped his sword and shield. The air didn’t feel right.

Sachie hummed. “Hmm, well, I read the mace is in some sort of temple.”

“Where? This place has been ravaged,” Avery said, eyeing his surroundings. “It feels like we stepped into another world.” He looked up at the pale blue sky and shivered. He brushed his bangs away from his eyes. “It feels really isolated.”

“Agreed. Sachie let’s find this temple quickly. Where is it exactly? The center?”

“How should I know? It’s lore, written in some dusty old book I happened upon years ago.”

Birger and Avery froze as they looked at each other.

“We’re here... for... for some coastal bumpkin gossip? You don’t even know if it’s here?” Avery asked with a sour frown.

Sachie regarded Birger for backup, but the knight huffed and looked away. She sighed, “Well, we’re already here. Let’s just make the best of it.”

“Great,” Avery muttered. He stepped forward and was violently flung into the sky. Sachie and Birger were impressed with the height he gained. Screaming, the archer fell fast back to the earth, but right before he landed (surely to his death), Birger immobilized him, inches from the soft dirt.

“HO SHIT. Thank you!” Avery panted, relieved. Birger said nothing as he dropped him, still knocking the wind out of him.

“W-what the hell was _that_?” Sachie looked around her, but it was no use, she too went flying—this time parallel to the ground—straight into a pillar. She crumpled face first down onto the soil, unconscious.

“Sachie!” Avery scrambled to his bow, he grabbed it and frantically looked for his arrows, but they had scattered. Birger ran to him, and back-to-back they looked all around the woods for whatever was toying with them.

And from behind a ruined wall, a fiery wheel rolled into their view. It stalked the two with its many eyes.

“Ew,” Avery whispered.

“Yeah.”

The spokes of the wheel glowed and pulsed with ethereal flares. Birger held his sword out as more wheels rolled into view. Two small and stout multi-faced beings appeared. Their faces shifted and changed as they spoke to one another in a tone so undecipherable, Birger had nothing to compare it to. Their words made him uneasy.

The two men stood quiet, Avery looked over his shoulder at Sachie, who slowly roused. The two beings glared at her, and the wheels started their charge, conjuring up tremendous winds and swiftly rolling towards her direction.

“Oh no you don’t!” Avery ran after them.

“Idiot!” Birger slashed at one of the wheels, finding it incredibly solid as he felt their magic tinge his blade. “You have no arrows!”

“Heh!” Avery tugged his bowstring, conjured up an ice arrow and released it into the wheel in front of Sachie. The impact was sharp, and the creature shrieked in pain.

Birger was colored impressed. He dodged an incoming wheel and slashed away, blocking and twisting and loving the feel of his adrenaline and the sweat on his brow. But his sword hardly did damage, he was only knocking them around and away. Magic was their weakness.

“Avery! Come here!” Birger yelled, overwhelmed as the wheels lunged at him. He parried and braced himself against their winds.

“But Sachie!” Avery bellowed his voice drowned out by the gales.

Sachie groaned in pain. “I’m fine, Avery, go help him.”

“But—” Avery tenderly touched her back.

“Go!” Sachie shoved him away.

Birger’s arms were fatigued, there were just too many of them. One of the wheels slammed itself into the back of Birger’s knee and he collapsed. He used his shield to block their onslaught.

Avery sprinted over to Birger, he felt the eyes of the chubby beings on him, but they did nothing. Haired out, he forced his way through the wheels, taking blows at his ribs and back and arms. “Birger! Your sword!”

Birger held up his blade, he didn’t understand what Avery was trying to do. Weapons were useless, and Avery’s sword techniques were lacking. “It’s no use!” Birger said, “Use your magic!”

Avery ignored him, saw the flash of his blade, and wrapped his had around it. The sword sliced through his palm, he grimaced but continued with the enchantment, praying to the gods that it would work.

And it did.

Birger felt the chill through the hilt, the blade was frothing and crackling with ice, he stared up at it, astonished. Avery had enchanted his sword—not a simple feat. Birger grounded his feet and sliced upwards, through a whole lot of wheels. That sharp impact flooded the woods, and the wheels shattered and disintegrated left and right as Birger skillfully oscillated his weapon.

Avery held his bloody palm and healed it. He looked over at Sachie, but she was gone. He ran over to where he had left her and grabbed his bow. Feeling danger, he quickly pivoted and casted an ice arrow straight into one of the chubby beings. It looked at him with shock as it tumbled backwards—its body liquefying into shimmering goo.

“Yuck.”

Sachie gripped her side as she made her way up the white marble steps. She healed the majority of her injuries but wanted to save whatever magic she had left for Avery and Birger. The main hall of the temple was vast, cavernous, and dark. She conjured a tiny ball of light and studied the walls. They were engraved with pictures of ancient people and celestial beings. She stopped and lowered her light. Maybe she shouldn’t be here. Maybe this was wrong. Those wheels were obviously guarding this temple. She sighed—torn. The mace would help her tremendously; it would focus and amplify her power. With it she could heal so many infected people. She may even be able to eradicate The Rot. She shook her head. But it wasn’t hers to take. She turned and made her way to the entrance. She suddenly felt warmth on her back; she heard something faint—sympathetic resonance. She glanced over her shoulder, her eyes widened at the glow forming at the altar.

Birger panted as he dropped down to the dirt and stretched out on his back. He couldn’t hide his smile. Avery slumped over, his shoulders sagged, and his head drooped. He was completely drained. He’d never maxed out his magic reserves, and it was evident with his pale lips. He hugged his bow to his chest.

“What a fight!” Birger exclaimed. He sat up and beheld the quiet woods. His sword was back to normal and he missed the buzz of power it gave his fingers. He slapped Avery’s shoulder. “Nice work, kid!”

“Heh,” was all Avery could manage out.

“Yoohoo! Boys!” Sachie called from afar; there was a hop in her step as she playfully twirled her newly acquired ceremonial mace around. “Look what I got!”

End.

8

Sachie knew. She screamed and drop-kicked Avery and Birger’s backs—they flew forward—getting the full brunt of the dust. Sachie scurried back and held her breath. She grimaced, knowing full well what would happen between the two men, she pulled her mace out to cure them, but the creature directed its attention to her. She scrambled to her feet, kicking up sand as she ran into the night, the creature floating after her.

The two men shook their clothes off and brushed the dust out of their hair. They looked at each other curiously.

When did Birger start looking so... so sexy? Avery wondered, his head angled.

Birger licked his lips, his narrowed eyes held Avery’s gaze.

Avery tugged at his collar, he felt so flushed, so suddenly overwhelmed.

Birger inhaled slow and deep.

The din of the ocean’s folding waves filled the men’s silence, the night felt heavy, the full moon illuminated enough.

Birger huffed, clearly irritable. Avery found the action strangely endearing. He inched closer wanting to touch the knight. Birger jerked his face away from the archer’s fingers, but Avery persisted and managed to caress his cheek, feeling his warmth and the scratch of his stubble.

Birger laughed uncomfortably, but then he pushed his cheek into Avery’s palm, adoring the rough flesh.

Avery groaned, he didn’t know what the fuck was wrong with him and he was certainly weary of the fact that Birger could (and possibly would) slice his hand clean off. He pulled away, fearful.

“Why’d you stop?” Birger asked hoarsely.

“You want me to...” Avery’s pulse quickened, he couldn’t take his eyes off of Birger’s lips, his neck.

“You’re so frustrating!” Birger grabbed the archer’s leather coat and drew him against his body. “I can’t stand you! You and your damn, gorgeous face!”

Avery gasped, feeling the very obvious hard-on between his thighs. “Oh, uh,” he stuttered, suddenly aware of how delicious the knight smelled. He felt his own cock stiffen. Newly embarrassed, he tried to pull away, but Birger kept his grip firm.

“Kiss me,” Birger demanded.

“Uh,” Avery managed out. He wanted to, but he was terrified of the aftermath. Was this some bizarre test? Was Birger going to finally murder him?

“Don’t make me repeat myself,” Birger sighed, closing his eyes—his brow tightly furrowed.

Avery swallowed down the lump in his throat. Why’d his mouth get so dry? Oh gods. He weakly planted his lips on Birger’s, surprised at how soft they were. Birger grunted against Avery’s mouth, and grabbed his head, intensifying the kiss. The archer’s eyes snapped open. This was weird. This was weird, right? But gods... Avery’s eyelids fluttered and closed as he shoved his tongue deep into Birger’s mouth—he used every kissing skill in his arsenal—trying his best to impress the other man.

Birger pulled away. “Sex, now.”

Avery looked at the patchy sandy-grassed ground they stood on. “Here?” he asked, “But my clothes—”

Birger grabbed the archer and undressed him, rather skillfully, like he knew exactly where to unbutton, and tug and...

Naked, Avery hugged his body, chilled by the ocean’s foamy breeze. “Are you—”

Birger shoved Avery down onto the cold, prickly sand. “Birger I—”

“I love it when you say my name, say it again,” the knight demanded as he crawled over the archer’s body, he straddled him, leaned back on his heels and smirked. “Say it again.”

Avery felt his chest flush, his cock twitched, and he slowly blinked, trying to gather his senses. The knight was so... irresistible.

And then his head felt suddenly clear, his thoughts sharp, like something had been washed off of him, like he wasn’t intoxicated anymore. He blinked, and Birger blinked, and the two men gaped at each other.

“Whew! Just in time,” Sachie said. She was out of breath, bent over with one hand on her thigh, the other clutching her mace.

Avery turned his head to look at her. “What? What do you mean?” He felt danger and looked at the man straddling him.

There was a visible vein protruding on Birger’s temple. His jaw was clenched as he hissed Avery’s name between his teeth.

“Oh Birger, don’t be like that,” Avery responded with his most seductive voice.

The knight proceeded to strangle the archer beneath him, and Sachie howled with laughter.

End.

9

Avery stirred. He opened his eyes and greeted their familiar worn-out tent above him. He stretched and closed his eyes against the diffused morning light and rolled onto his side. He smelled breakfast; he could already taste the sulfuric eggs mixed with dark greens, and fatty ham. He sighed happily and opened his eyes and... saw himself sleeping across from him.

He yelped and sat up. The other Avery stirred and mumbled something in his sleep. Avery held his throat as he sat in dead silence, he felt himself swallow hard under his palm. Did Birger murder him in his sleep? Was this the afterlife? Was he simply a soul now? He looked down at his body, startled to find a well-defined chest, and taut abs. His dark skin was replaced with white skin riddled with small faded scars. His tattoos were gone. He reached up and ran his hands through his hair; it was longer than his, waved and thinner. He poked the other Avery who slapped his hand away and groggily cursed him.

Avery didn’t bother dressing and slipped out of the tent in his underclothes. He was impressed with the power in his thighs, his body felt so robust and tough. But he couldn’t feel any magic in his veins. It felt strange, a little bare. Avery was sure he was in Birger’s body somehow; he nodded at Sachie as she poked the ham steak with her utensil.

“Morning Birger, breakfast is almost ready.” She didn’t move from her squat. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Morning...” Avery cupped his mouth with his hands and let out a sound riddled with bemusement and terror.

Sachie stared at him for a moment. Her mouth hung open. She shot up. “Avery?!”

Avery dropped his hands to his sides. “How’d you know?”

“Avery you little shit!” Birger stormed out of the tent, unaccustomed to his new body, he caught himself on the opening and wrestled with the flap. He freed himself, with a face so grave that Avery and Sachie found it strange on the archer.

Birger marched over to Avery and gripped his arm. His fingers couldn’t fit around his bicep, and this made Avery grin.

“What did you _do_?” Birger had lost a lot of his regular menace thanks to Avery’s tenor.

Avery easily snatched his arm away. “Why do you always think it’s _my_ fault? And how should I know? I’m just as confused as you.”

Sachie tended the grill and readied everyone’s plates. “Don’t worry, don’t worry. We’re near a town. I’ll head to an apothecary and sort you two out. In the meantime, eat.”

Avery squeezed himself into his outfit. Birger’s muscular body was too large for his daily ensemble. He sighed and gave up trying to button up his blouse. His jacket felt incredibly tight around his shoulders and his pants struggled to contain his thighs and ass. He didn’t even bother with his mythril.

“No. Don’t wear that,” Birger groused. He looked doleful in his baggy clothing.

“Why? They’re my clothes.”

“I look stupid in them, like some sort of lecherous—”

“I’m definitely not taking them off now.” Avery laughed and posed for Sachie who nodded in approval.

“Take those clothes off, now.” Again, the menace was lacking.

Avery snorted, “Just as you said the other night.”

“Shut up!” Birger punched Avery’s chest and immediately gripped his fist, wincing from the impact. “Fuck! You’re so weak!”

“I am not! You just don’t know how to use my body.”

Birger growled and pulled at his newly thick hair. “Sachie let’s go, get me out of this hell-body!”

The trio reached the outskirts of the town. It was a dusty place; arid with the inhabitants dressed in rich, vibrant colors. Marketplace stalls leading up to the main gates were abundant with seasonal fruits and artisan goods. Their sellers zealously shouted their wares at reasonable prices.

Avery walked behind Birger, it was strange seeing the back of himself, clad in Birger’s usual clothes, his cowl brushed the ground with each step. He glanced down at his impressive, rough hands. Still, he felt no magic. Not a trace. He frowned.

“Where does your magic come from?” He wasn’t used to this deep of a tone and smirked at his newly deepened words.

Birger looked over his shoulder and Avery flinched. He had somehow managed to give Avery’s boyish face a rather severe expression. It looked uncanny, like Avery could see Birger inside him. “What’s it to you?” he finally said.

“Forget it,” Avery said, feeling weary all of sudden.

“All right boys,” Sachie grimaced, “I’m heading to the apothecary, try to stay out of trouble.”

“I’m heading to the tavern,” Avery said as he walked away.

“What do you think happened to us?” Birger asked as he walked Sachie to the apothecary.

“I’m not entirely sure. I’ve seen this before though.”

Birger pushed his annoyingly soft bangs out of his eyes. “You have? The outcome?”

“Hmm, there’s a potion for it. I’m just hoping they’ll have some already made, because making it is a bit of a pain honestly.”

“Great,” Birger huffed. He didn’t like being in Avery’s body, it felt too light and his skin felt irritating. His fingertips tingled strangely and his back held stiff.

“You’re not a magic user, are you Birger?” Sachie asked, noticing him curl and uncurl his fingers.

“Is it that obvious?” They reached the door.

“You’re either magic sensitive or you’re not,” Sachie said with a shrug.

Birger scratched at his chest. “Is that so?”

“Yep.” Sachie fished out her money pouch. “You might wanna go check up on Avery, he seemed pretty pleased with his new body, and I’m sure he’s using that to his advantage,” she hinted with a smile.

Birger grumbled and made his way to the tavern.

“And I said, ‘What do I look like, an elf?’” Avery quipped, and the quartet of barmaids giggled.

“My, you’re a funny one, aren’t you?” said the older of the maidens as she topped off Avery’s ale.

“Ah well,” Avery blushed and took a swig of his drink.

“You’re so brawny,” said a blonde maiden as she observed his thick forearms.

“I put a lot of hard work into this body,” said Avery with a dashing smile.

The ladies ohhed and ahhed as he flexed.

“THAT’S _MY_ BODY!”

Avery groaned and finished off his drink. He turned on his stool and spotted Birger storming down the ale hall.

Birger’s slender fingers gripped his leather. “You have no right.”

Avery held up his hands in protest. “What are you babbling about? I haven’t done anything.”

“You’re damn right, because _this_ belongs to me,” Birger snarled, and the barmaids looked at each other. They covered their mouths and giggled at the assumed declaration of love.

Avery swallowed. “You mean this body’s yours?”

“Correct!”

The barmaids excused themselves and prattled enthusiastically as they went back to work. Avery slumped on his stool and pushed Birger’s hand away. “Gods! Why did you have to say that? What a cock block,” he said with a pout.

“That’s my cock!” Birger shouted, incredulous. “You have no right to use it!”

“Ugh, shut up,” Avery whispered, avoiding the patron’s stares.

“Avery de Miastko.”

Birger froze, and Avery blanched. The duo turned. Prince Emery stood there seething as his crew of musclemen shadowed him.

“Have you and this Ourensean brute...” He struggled to find the words; he trembled and bit his bottom lip, holding back a swell of emotions.

Avery frowned, and Birger remained silent.

“UGH!” Emery unsheathed his rapier and aimed it at Avery’s neck, unaware of their switch.

“Whoa there!” Avery felt incredibly unprepared and weak without his magic. He knew Emery was an expert swordsman and ruthless when it came to his feelings being hurt.

“There’s no use hiding it anymore Birger,” Birger said in his most Avery-like voice.

Avery glared at him, suddenly aware of the sweat accumulating in his armpits. He looked over at Emery, whose foil trembled with anger. “Emery, hah, buddy...”

Emery jabbed, and Avery awkwardly slid off his stool to avoid it. He slapped a gold coin down onto the bar and ran out of the ale hall into the sandy street. Birger followed him out, along with Emery and his crew, as well as some nosier patrons.

Avery pulled out his dagger. He was not proficient with daggers. He looked at Birger with pleading eyes.

“Birger just tell him about that night on the beach,” Birger said, feigning desperation. “Tell him how we kissed—”

Emery growled, “You’re filthy heathen!” He lunged, and Avery dodged it. Birger’s body was definitely not built for speed, Avery noted, already feeling fatigued.

“Emery, please,” Avery said dodging and pivoting away from the rapier’s deadly point. “You don’t understand—we’ve switched—I’m in his body.”

Emery’s ears turned bright red and he screeched, he whipped his rapier and lashed at Avery who barely avoided the full force of it.

“Okay, that’s enough,” Birger said unsheathing his sword.

Emery looked at Birger. “What, but he sullied you, _my delicate flower_!” He looked at the sword. “Where’s the sword I gave you?”

Birger snorted. Avery was far from a delicate flower. He looked over at the archer and declared, “I love you Birger, but I think you know that, especially after that night.” 

Avery blushed, he worked his mouth, but no words came out.

Emery let out a horrible wail. Tears gushed out of his eyes, snot dribbled out of his nose and down his chin.

Avery groaned and ran a hand through his hair. This was ridiculous. Avery watched as Birger relished in Emery’s dramatic breakdown—there was something devilish in his smile. Avery knew Emery could be a bit much, but he didn’t deserve this treatment. He decided to finish him off. He walked over to Birger, placed a hand on his cheek and said, as loud as he could over Emery’s sobbing, “True. But I’ve always loved you, right from the first moment we met.” And then Avery kissed him—passionately.

Emery glanced up at them. His sobs stopped. He stood, bent over as if wounded. His rapier slipped from his grasp. And then he screamed. And then he fainted.

His crew circled around him, pulling out smelling salts and fanning him and murmuring reassuring words. The observing crowd was put off by the debacle and returned to their day. And Sachie came jogging down the street, with a capped beaker in her hand.

Birger shoved Avery away from him. “You’re no fun.”

Avery chuckled. He felt the magic return to his flesh. He looked up at Birger, who was indeed Birger, again.

“Oh, we’re back.” Birger remarked as he took his sword from Avery’s hand.

“I’ve got the potion! This should fix you up in no time!” Sachie said as she jogged up to them. She looked over at Emery on the ground. “What’s going on here?”

“We’re back to normal, thanks anyway,” Avery said.

Sachie paused, looked at the beaker filled with sludge and jogged back towards the apothecary. “I hope they take returns!”

End.

10

Sachie unfolded her worn map and smoothed it out onto the sticky wooden table. She had charted a path to the supposed location of the Disc of Nebra. It was quite the trek; they would have to cover various locales—territories, forests, almost everyplace imaginable on the continent. Sachie sucked in her bottom lip, her eyes held the map—she appeared overcome by the distance.

“We can do it,” Birger said, leaning back into his chair. He cupped his pint, which caught the dim light of the tavern. A hot, invisible summer’s rain poured outside. Birger peered out of the window at the darkness. He sipped his beer and stared at a particular point on the map. They’d be passing through a cemetery, _the_ cemetery. He smiled behind his pint as he watched Sachie pull out a few books from her satchel.

“I’m sure it’s there though, I’ve confirmed it with various sources,” Sachie said as she perused her books.

“You don’t have to convince me,” Birger said. He could care less about the Disc; he was after something mighty, something more...

“So, you two are searching for the Disc?”

Birger and Sachie looked up at the source of the accented voice.

A man dressed in deep crimson and black velvet stood beside their table. He wore a mask over his mouth and nose, and a very expensive looking cap shadowed his eyes-his gaze smiled as he nodded at the two of them. “Sorry to intrude, I just overheard.”

Sachie glanced at Birger. The knight scowled at the traveler and said, “You’re after the Disc too, I take it?”

“Well not exactly,” said the man as he pulled up a chair and sat. “I just know someone else who’s after it.”

“And?” Birger asked.

Sachie tucked the map away between her books.

“I’m an archer, a swordsman, a—”

“A grey mage?” Sachie guessed.

Birger snorted and returned to his pint.

The grey mage looked at Birger and cleared his throat. “My name’s Avery. I’m from Tatra—”

Birger slammed his pint down and Sachie quickly snatched her books away from the table, avoiding what little liquid had splashed out.

“No,” Birger said, giving Avery a hard stare.

Avery slumped and sighed. He pulled down his mask and Birger silently sat back in his chair.

“You wouldn’t have known if I didn’t tell you,” Avery said with a smile.

It was true, Birger wouldn’t have known. No one knows much about the Tatran people. Birger eyed the embellished basket-hilt of Avery’s sword and the rich wood of his bow. His thick, short coat would catch a pretty sum. Tatran’s were either an ostentatious people or this man came from money.

“Who are you following?” Birger asked, signaling the barkeep for two pints.

“What?” Avery asked, blushing.

“You said someone was after the Disc as well, who is it?”

Sachie leaned forward, waiting for what the mage had to say.

“Ah, well.” The Tatran glanced at Sachie and then said to Birger, “A monk. Milady de Haro, I uh,” he reddened further, cleared his throat and took off his cap—his straight black hair cascaded down, and Birger swallowed.

The barkeep sat two pints down and Birger slid one of them to Avery. Avery looked at it with surprise.

“You people don’t drink?” Birger asked after his swill.

“Heh. No, we love our alcohol,” Avery said. “I... I didn’t catch your names.”

“Sachie.”

“Birger Grimsson.”

“Ah right, great,” Avery said shyly, taking a drink.

End.


	3. Chapter 3

11

Sachie had asked to be alone for the night. She wanted to catch up on her white magic studies. She parked herself in a comfy corner of the hostelry. She neatly spread out her work before her and she ordered a stout and a hunter’s stew. She ate and drank periodically as she marked her texts and wrote down key fragments. She summoned the hot silvery magic to her fingertips and canceled it out. A delicate numbness remained.

Her magic was growing stronger, and she was pleased by her progress. She slid her palm against the mace sitting beside her and nestled back against the cushions. She drank and closed her eyes, enjoying the blasé singing of the bard and the spirited rhythms of the drummer. She tapped her fingers on her thigh along to the steady beat, familiar with the song. She thought of the oceanfront back home, she thought of _him_. She opened her eyes and looked over at the bar.

Avery and Birger were sitting at the bar, incredibly animated as they conversed with each other. Sachie smiled, the two men were strange. One moment they were bickering and trying to kill each other, the next moment they were embracing—worried about each other’s wellbeing, and now they were nearly inseparable. Avery’s knee touched Birger’s as they talked. She remembered her studies; she read the same passage over and over.

Birger had taken his cowl off and draped it over his thigh. His brown unkempt hair brushed the tops of his shoulders as he laughed at whatever foolish thing Avery had said. The drummer’s beat faded into something different, and the bard quivered their tambourine and swayed as they sang.

Sachie pulled out her herb pouch and rolled herself a ciggy. She licked the paper to seal it, pinched the stray herbs off of her tongue and lit her creation. She puffed and inhaled the verdant smoke. She continued observing the two men. Birger was undeniably arresting as far as looks went. He was tall and strapping, and quite a sight without clothes on. His facial features were angular and easy to look at. He often forgot to shave but also never seemed to care either way. But... there was something ominous about him, his aura, which made him cold and unapproachable. He had a calculating way of looking at someone, like he was sizing them up, weighing their worth. It made her uneasy—it made others visibly uneasy. But she couldn’t deny how safe she felt near him. 

Avery was the opposite of Birger. Tanned and almond eyed. He had kept his black hair short ever since the imp incident (enlisting the help of Sachie to maintain it). He’d often shake his head to move his bangs away from his eyes—a boyish action that added to his charisma. He had perfect posture and held things with care. His innate mannerisms were those of an upper echelon, but he lacked a poker face and his outward actions were borderline comedic. A true believer in the power of accessories, he donned himself with glittering earrings, rings, twinkling bracers, dangling chains and necklaces.

Birger was purposely somber, and Avery was practically gilded. The two of them together brought a lot of stares. Sachie bent an eyebrow as Birger placed a hand on Avery’s thigh and gave it a squeeze. She looked away; she knew Birger would catch onto her staring.

Why was he so chummy with Avery all of a sudden? Things were weird after that wraith’s dust beguiled the two men. But... it wasn’t just that. Birger whispered something near Avery’s ear. The archer tilted back with an incredulous look.

It wasn’t too long ago when an outlaw impaled Avery; the enchanted spear went straight through his mythril, straight through him. She felt sick at the loss of him, she knew there was no way to save him with her skill, and she couldn’t move. Birger, on the other hand, went true berserk. He slaughtered the entire faction. It was horrible and awesome, and after the bloodshed, after Avery had begged a blood-soaked Birger to pull the spear out of him, the archer had miraculously healed himself. And the look of disbelief that marred Birger’s face startled Sachie. And his sneer that followed chilled her.

She shook her head at the memory and blinked at the men. They laughed, and Avery stumbled off of his stool, he simpered as he said something to Birger. The archer excused himself and staggered away, struggling up the stairs to the rooms on the second floor. Birger sat for a while after Avery left. He stared at the empty stool beside him. He ran a hand though his hair and gripped the back of his neck. He appeared unsure, thoughtful and pained. He downed the remnants of his ale, paid the tab, secured his cowl and crept upstairs, Sachie assumed, after Avery.

She knew.

Before, Birger had demanded he share a room with her whenever they had secured enough funds for a place to stay. Avery was always left on his own, which worked in his favor since it provided him the freedom to sleep around. Sachie and the knight would acquire two small beds. They slept soundly. But a few nights ago, in another town, she had awoken to Birger quietly rummaging through his belongings. He crept out. She had groggily sat up, curious. The whole event was bizarre. She heard Birger knock on Avery’s neighboring door. He went in, she assumed, and she could hear their muffled murmurs. Then it was silent. And then she heard the unmistakable sounds of passion. She had giggled into her palm, astounded by their lusty moans.

Birger had never returned that night and the following day the two men were exceptionally quiet.

The whole thing didn’t bother Sachie in the slightest because she half expected it. There was too much tension between the two men from the get-go. What bothered Sachie was the suddenness of that night since it was right after Avery was essentially murdered—right after he enchanted Birger’s sword—after he summoned the dragon... She perused her oldest book and scanned over the section about weapon enchantment. It was an extremely difficult thing to do, tricky, especially so hastily without any aids. Avery was more gifted with magic than he had let on, and she knew Birger had recognized that as well. She snapped her book shut and finished off her ciggy.

She ate her dinner, paid her tab, gathered her things and headed upstairs. She walked past Avery’s room. Stopped. Walked back and pressed her ear against the door. Yes. They were fucking. Sachie clicked her tongue and shook her head. Something wasn’t right. She pressed her ear to the door once more.

She couldn’t sleep that night. Birger hadn’t returned to their room and she was worried about Avery. She slipped out of bed and tugged on her robe. She grabbed her herbal pouch and left the room. She quietly walked down the hallway to the small balcony at the end where she opened the windowed door and stepped outside. The brisk pre-dawn air and chirping birds welcomed her. She sat down on one of the small iron chairs and rolled herself a ciggy. She smoked. The door behind her opened.

“Hey there.” It was Avery, dressed in a silk robe. His hair was a mess, like someone had been tugging on it. His lips were swollen, and his eyes appeared tired. He slumped down into the chair next to Sachie. His robe slipped off his shoulder, and Sachie spotted fresh bruises along his arm. She reached over and pulled his sleeve up.

“Rough night?” Sachie teased.

Avery let out a weak laugh. “You could say that.” He gripped his forehead and grimaced. “Can I have a drag?”

“Be my guest.” She handed him her ciggy and he eagerly toked it.

Sachie looked out at the horizon. “I’m worried about you.”

“Me too.”

They sat in silence, listening to the birds. They passed the ciggy back and forth, until they both crooked their heads, sensing something.

“You feel that too?” Avery asked as he flicked the finished ciggy away with his fingers.

“Yeah I do...”

The two turned and peered into the hallway behind them. A tall woman in black stood in front of Avery’s room. She was facing the door, motionless, until she noticed them.

End.

12

Avery stuck a toe into the hot bathwater. He quickly pulled his foot away. “Gods, it’s fucking boiling!”

“It’s not _that_ bad,” Birger said. He propped his elbows up on the tiled floor behind him. He titled his head back and savored the release of his tight muscles. “Just get in here.”

Avery modestly cupped his privates—not like Birger wanted to look at them anyhow. The archer had pulled his long hair back into a high bun; a few unfastened strands brushed against his tattooed chest. He eased into the bath water with a distressed expression.

“Fuuuuck,” he said through his teeth.

Birger chuckled. “No scalding baths back home?”

“We’re more of the sauna followed by an ice bath type,” Avery admitted fanning himself with his hand. His chest and neck were bright red. “Do your people like hot baths?”

“Where I come from hot springs are everywhere.”

“Oh?” Avery lowered his arms slowly, his mouth hung open in a silent scream. Once he was situated, he asked, “Where are you from anyway?”

Birger hesitated, surprised that Avery hadn’t already known. “Ourense.”

Avery raised his eyebrows.

“What?”

“Nothing,” Avery said, swishing the milky water around.

“That face said otherwise.”

“It’s just—I heard Ourense is...”

“Yes?”

“It’s a place of sin. Devilry and sibyls,” Avery said looking directly into Birger’s eyes.

Birger laughed and awkwardly looked away. “Would you want people believing all of the rumors about Tatra?”

“Well, no one really knows anything about Tatra so—”

“Well it’s the same with Ourense.”

Avery grimaced. “All right, if you say so.”

Birger huffed. The archer had no tact.

“But you do have witches there, right? That’s real, right?”

“And if it is?”

Avery sighed. His forehead was damp. He lowered himself so that the water touched the bottom of his ears.

“Yes, there are witches. Anything else you’d like to know?”

Are you seeing anyone? Is there a Mister or Misses Birger back home?”

Birger blinked at him. He wasn’t expecting that question. “That’s none of your business.”

Avery chuckled. “That’s a ‘no’.”

“No, it’s not. It’s a none-of-your-fucking-business.”

“Gods, you get so angry. What’s eating at you anyhow? Why are you so uptight all of the time?”

“I am not uptight.”

“Yes, you are.” Avery smirked. “Even while relaxing in a hot bath you get pissed.”

Birger scowled.

“You know if you didn’t do that so often, you’d be really handsome.” 

Birger slapped his hand across the water, splashing Avery with a massive wave.

Avery took the abuse and wordlessly released his dampened hair. It tumbled down, over his shapely shoulders. Birger couldn’t stand the archer’s hair. It made him uneasy. Avery didn’t look at him.

“Do...”

Avery looked up at him, his brown eyes widened at the inquiry.

Birger cleared his throat and continued, “Do all of the Tatran people grow their hair out like that?”

“Only some of us.”

“That’s cryptic.”

“That’s all you get to know,” Avery said with a wink. “But honestly, why are you filled with so much malice?”

Birger submerged himself under the hot water. He popped back up and slicked his hair back. “I have a lot on my mind.”

“Why?”

“Why are you so intrusive? How about I ask you some questions now.”

“All right. Hurry up though, I’m getting pruny.”

“Who exactly is Prince Emery, and why is he so infatuated with you?”

Avery hung his head back and let out an animalistic sound.

Birger laughed. “Annoying right? You don’t have to tell me. But I _am_ curious.”

Avery ducked under the water to wet his hair completely. He popped up just as quickly. “My mother’s a songstress, she was hired by his father—a king—obviously. Because of my mother’s involvement with the court we crossed paths, and it was lust at first sight, I guess.”

Birger knew there was probably more to it than that. “Oh, so you and—”

“ _One-sided_ lust at first sight,” Avery interrupted. “He’s not my type.”

“Oh, so what’s your type then? Frivolous, pretty faced bards?”

Avery grinned. “Burly knights with a lot on their minds.”

Birger frowned but he couldn’t stifle an embarrassed laugh.

End.

13

The trio had squared off with a faction of bandits—dangerous ones. They were fully armed and blocked their passage through the valley. The heavy rain hammered them as they considered their options.

“We can turn back,” Sachie said. “Come back during the day.”

“No, we’re not backtracking,” Birger said. His cowl did little to keep him dry.

Avery had his mask on, but his eyes showed determination. “I honestly think we can take them.”

“They’re heavily equipped,” Sachie said. She looked over at the group; she could sense their impatience.

“But we’ve got magic on our side. And Birger.”

Birger huffed. “We can negotiate with them.”

“What? With what?” Avery asked. “We hardly have any supplies.”

“Your jewelry, you’ve got plenty of that.”

“No way!”

“Sorry to break up the prattle,” yelled the leader. He was a thick, well-built man. He held a spear across his shoulders. “But we’re going to need payment if you want to pass.”

“What, do you own this pathway?” Avery asked and Sachie elbowed him in the ribs.

“Now’s not the time,” she muttered, clutching her mace.

“Ugh screw this.” Avery readied his bow, and the bandits readied their weapons.

Birger stepped forward. “We don’t have anything worthwhile for you. Just let us pass.”

The bandits kept up their arms as the leader shouted, “Nah. Looks like your party’s sporting some mighty fine items. We’ll take our pick. Maybe we’ll take your girl.”

“No deal,” Birger said as he discreetly gripped the hilt of his sword. He knew he had just enough power to stop time and dispose of them, but he’d have to be quick about it. But before he could act a shower of arrows rained down on the trio and they ran for cover. Nothing came from the sudden onslaught, but it did manage to isolate Sachie—who had managed her way behind a boulder—from Avery and Birger.

Birger deflected some of the stray arrows with his shield as he searched for her, and in doing so, dropped his guard. He heard Avery shout something, and then he felt the hard ground against his side. Everything had happened so fast. He heard Sachie scream; he’d never heard anyone scream like that. Avery staggered in front of him. Birger couldn’t grasp what he was looking at. Sachie ran over to them but her legs gave out and she crashed into the mud. She looked up at Birger, panic in her eyes as she struggled against some invisible weight. Birger frantically searched the bandits, one of them wielded gravity magic.

“Avery!” Sachie shrieked.

The archer dropped to his knees. The bandits laughed.

“Shit hit ‘em dead on!” the leader said proudly.

Who? Birger crawled over to his companion—his breath hitched. A spear stuck straight out of Avery’s back—impaled him—its pointed tip glowed with magic.

Birger grabbed the archer before he collapsed. He felt sick as he tugged Avery’s mask down. He was in shock his lips were pallid and he struggled to breathe as blood pooled out of his mouth. It had pierced his lung.

Birger held him with his shaking hands. “H-how?” He looked over at Sachie. Tears streamed down her face. “But his mithril... how?” he shouted. He felt his anger well up inside him—that familiar burn.

Avery weakly grabbed Birger’s hood. “D-don’t,” was all he could manage out. He groaned, clearly in immense pain, and Birger could hear the blood choke his esophagus. He saved him. This idiot saved him. He probably thought he’d be safe with his mythril but...

Mindful of the spear, Birger gently laid Avery down onto his side. He gripped his hilt and threw his shield aside as he walked towards the bandits. He could hear Avery’s pleas. The idiot was begging Birger to spare them.

“Kill them!” Sachie screamed. She slammed her fists against the mud. “Kill them all Birger!”

The bandits were amused. Birger marched forward, picking up speed.

“Oh hoh, look at this tough guy.”

“Thinks he can take all of us on.”

“Let’s waste this piece of shit.”

Birger smirked. He sprinted, waved his hand and immobilized all of them. He’d never stopped a group of people this large before. This was going to be fun. He sped up his own movements, drew his sword and started hacking away. The men didn’t even know what was happening to them. Birger slashed his way through limbs, ligaments, stomachs... there was so much blood, so much carnage. He panted with excitement, and he made sure to save the leader for last.

After clearing the majority of the men, he released them, and they cowered about, confused, pissing themselves at the sight of their comrades’ mangled bodies.

“S-shit what the fuck are you?” The leader had fallen back. He looked rather pathetic for such a big guy.

Birger didn’t say anything. He looked over at Avery. Sachie was freed from the magic and she had made her way over to him. She sobbed.

“H-hey, hey now...” the guy scrambled to his hands and knees. He bowed and bowed and attempted to kiss Birger’s boot. But the knight kicked his chest. He swung his sword down and shaved the top part of the leader’s skull clean off. What few stragglers Birger had left behind to watch hurried off. Pleased, he flicked the blood off of his blade and sheathed his sword.

Sachie clung to Avery as Birger approached them. “I can’t do anything. His injuries are beyond anything I can heal. I can’t, I can’t...”

Avery was miraculously present, he attempted to sit up, but Birger knelt down and gently prevented him from doing so.

“Take, take this... out of me,” Avery mumbled. He gripped at the end of the spear. “Birger, please.”

“You’re going to die,” Birger said as he blinked away the burning in his eyes. “Just lay down and be quiet.”

“No,” Avery sat up. He groaned and grabbed Birger’s hand. He directed it towards the spear. “I need this out... out of me.” He was panting, lips pale.

Birger looked over at Sachie. She shrugged, distraught. Birger gripped the spear, and with the swiftest, cleanest pull he could manage—he yanked it out of Avery who toppled over onto his knees, bent, gasping in pain.

“This is foolish,” Birger said as he threw the spear aside.

Avery coughed and groaned, but he remained bent over.

And then a hot white light glowed beneath him. Sachie watched the archer with wonder.

Birger took a step back. “What’re you—”

“He’s... healing himself,” Sachie muttered.

End.

14

Avery fingered the hole in his mythril. That was too close. His regeneration had taken a lot of out of him. Pissed at his carelessness, he draped the damaged mythril across the back of a chair. He took off his jewelry and accessories and placed them down onto the table. Now Birger and Sachie knew he could heal himself. He groaned—annoyed. He was getting sloppy. He was too distracted. A cold shower would clear his mind, and then he’d turn in early for the night.

A soft knock at the door roused him from his thoughts. He stared at the door, silently demanding whoever was on the other side to go away.

“Avery?” Birger whispered from the other side.

Avery froze and debated answering the door, but his curiosity overcame him, and he walked over. He checked himself in the tiny mirror by the washbasin and opened the door.

“Birger? What’s wrong?” Avery asked. He held the door open just a sliver.

“Can I come in?”

“Uh, sure.” Avery stepped aside and let the knight into his room. He closed the door behind him. “Is something the matter? You look tense.”

“Do I?” Birger gripped something in his palm.

“Yeah you do.”

“How’re you feeling?”

Avery stood by the door. He didn’t dare move. “Are you worried about me?” he asked, a little amused. “I’m fine, Birger.” He lifted his shirt as proof. “See? It’s almost as good as new.”

Birger reached out and gently touched his now faint scar. “I’m glad.”

Avery forced his shirt down, but Birger didn’t remove his hand, instead he gently caressed his skin there. “You’re scaring me.”

“Am I?” Birger pulled in close. Avery found it difficult to steady his breathing—he was mortified by the rapidity of his pulse. The flesh over his chest and arms started to tingle and his muscles felt horribly tight—as if reacting to something. But Gods, Birger looked so... so... Avery allowed the knight to kiss him. It was a timid exchange, until Birger licked at Avery’s bottom lip. Avery gently pushed him away, unsure of what to do. What was Birger after?

As if sensing his hesitation Birger whispered, “I want this. I want you.”

Avery flushed—startled by such an un-Birger-like confession. It was unexpected, and it made Avery dizzy with desire. He nodded towards Birger’s fist. “What’s in your hand?” he asked, eager to change the subject.

Birger smiled and showed the archer. “Lubricant.”

“Oh!” Avery was suddenly aware of his sweaty palms. “I wasn’t expecting you’d have something like that.”

“You think I’m chaste?”

“A little, yeah.”

Birger leaned in; he brushed his lips against Avery’s ear. “Hardly.”

Avery quivered. He made up his mind and walked over to the bed, gently tugging Birger along with him. “I’m convinced. Have your way with me,” he said playfully. He sat on the bed and watched as Birger undressed. He tried not to ogle his broad chest, his chiseled abs, the thick veins in his muscular forearms and biceps. Birger regarded Avery almost lovingly as he slid his hand down his own chest, down his abs (Avery’s eyes hungrily followed), past his pubic hair where he tugged at his erection.

“Do you know how to suck cock?” Birger asked lazily.

_Did_ he?! Avery stood and kissed him; he trailed his lips and tongue downward, tasting his hot salty flesh. He inhaled his musk as he lowered himself to his knees. He gripped Birger’s cock and lapped at it as he dragged his free fingers through his thick pubic hair. He avidly slurped on him, and Birger rewarded him with throaty groans and painful tugs at his hair.

“Yes, just like that,” he crooned, and Avery blushed at his tone. So, Birger was a talker, huh? He slid his hands along Birger’s ass and tried his best to breathe through his nose. His own cock throbbed painfully, constricted by his pants. Birger gripped his head and thrusted into his mouth, making the younger man gag on his length. Birger seemed to enjoy that, as he didn’t stop until Avery pinched his thigh.

Avery gasped for air and allowed Birger to slide the wet tip of his cock across his lips.

“Look up at me.”

He did, and Birger smirked down at him. “Strip.”

Avery felt awfully timid undressing under Birger’s intense gaze. Once he was completely naked Birger shoved him onto the bed, where he allowed Birger to crawl over him. They kissed—ravenously sucking and consuming each other’s tongues. Avery was stunned by how skilled Birger was in bed. He gasped as Birger pinned his arms down above his head. He shuddered with need as Birger slid his hot tongue across his flushed chest, he took a nipple into his mouth and sucked gently. He peered up at the archer and bit down on the sensitive bud. Avery groaned and struggled against Birger’s firm grip.

“Uhn, just fuck me already.” The foreplay was too much for the younger man. His cock ached for his touch.

“Beg for it,” Birger whispered, he licked Avery’s underarm, making him squirm.

“Please.”

“Please what?” Birger kept his grip steady on his wrists. He used a free hand to grab Avery’s chin, he titled his face upwards, so he could look him in the eyes. He shoved a finger into Avery’s mouth, which he feverishly sucked.

“Please fuck me.”

“Say it again.”

He did.

“Louder.”

Avery nearly passed out from the heat accumulating in him. “GODS! FUCK ME, BIRGER! PLEASE!”

The knight released him. He sat back on his heels and grabbed his bottle of lube. He slowly poured the cold oil onto Avery’s cock, then over his own. He ignored Avery as he massaged the oil all over his own cock. Avery reached for his cock, but Birger slapped his hand away. He laughed at the lust-filled, deprived whimpers that escaped from his lips.

“You’re so needy,” Birger teased as he finally gripped Avery’s cock.

“Gods...” Avery panted. He gripped at the sheets beneath him as Birger pleasured him.

“I like you like this,” Birger mused, sliding his own cock against Avery’s. “It suits you.”

Avery gasped and writhed.

“Look how quiet you are. So focused.” Birger palmed their cocks. Avery’s breathing was erratic—embarrassed by the way Birger watched him. All he felt was that delicious heat of his hands on him. Avery shut his eyes and came. His seed spilled all over Birger’s hand, which he brought to his lips. “So _that’s_ what you taste like.”

Too much. It was all too much. Avery muttered a Tatran curse. This man was tormenting him.

Birger let out a rather roguish laugh as he cleaned himself off with Avery’s shirt. He oiled his fingers and sat on the bed with his back against the wall. “Come here Avery.”

He could hardly move, his thighs quivered from his climax. “More?”

“Of course, there’s more,” Birger said as Avery straddled him.

Avery had never had sex in this position. He kissed Birger and tried to relax as the older man fingered his ass. Birger cupped the back of Avery’s head; he kissed him deeply and worked his slicked fingers in and out of Avery’s tight hole. He found his prostate and toyed with it. Avery’s cock twitched against Birger’s stomach. He panted against his lips.

“You like this, don’t you?”

Avery nodded weakly.

“Want me to milk you?”

Avery blushed. “Gods.”

Birger laughed and sucked on the archer’s neck. “I didn’t think you’d be this shy. And here I thought you were a seasoned lover.”

He did too.

Birger kissed him—he gently slid his tongue along Avery’s, he slid the shaft of his cock against Avery’s ass—teasing him.

“You’ve done this before.” Avery tried to hide the tinge of jealousy in his words.

“Like you haven’t.” Birger lifted Avery’s hips and eased him down onto his cock. Avery gasped at the strain. He adjusted himself into a squat position and focused on his breathing until Birger was entirely inside him. He dug his fingers into his strong shoulders and slowly rode him.

“Not like that,” Birger said, his eyes dark with desire. “Fuck me.”

Avery swallowed and did as told. He slammed his ass down onto Birger’s hard cock. Up and down—he whimpered at the relentless prodding. Birger panted and watched him, satisfied with his speed. He gripped Avery’s arms. The mattress creaked with each erotic motion and Avery’s ass squelched around Birger’s thick cock.

“That’s it,” Birger groaned, his cheeks flushed with need.

Avery was short of breath, his thighs were fatigued and Birger took over, shoving the archer down onto his back. He hoisted his legs up and over his shoulders and fucked him senseless. Avery felt goose bumps rise from Birger’s skin, he saw that familiar look of release grace his features and then he felt his ass fill with his cum. Birger looked down at him with a satisfied smile.

And Avery immediately regretted everything.

End.

15

There was this cold tension between Birger and Avery after their shared, perfervid night.

Sachie walked beside and between the two and wondered aloud, “What’s gotten into you guys anyhow?” The men said nothing as they continued onward.

Birger didn’t know what to do. He watched as Avery slew random beasts, as he fended off bandits and the like—all with this dreary air to him and his movements, like he was fighting against an unseen heavy weight. He cooked dinner, bathed, and repaired his weapons with hardly a peep. No comedy, no wild stories, no anything. He seemed preoccupied and lost in thought. And when the three of them arrived at a new township, Avery wondered off.

Night fell, and he returned to them at the town’s main bar, but he was now clad in all black, equipped with brand new bracers, a deep purple quiver, and a simple chest guard. His stylish hat was gone, along with his red coat, and the sum of his jewelry had diminished. He sat with them under the crimson painted ceiling at a long table and ordered a strong, dark stout.

“Where’d your clothes go?” Sachie asked.

“Sold them.”

Birger drank. He couldn’t bring himself to look at Avery. Puffing away on a ciggy, Sachie turned her attention to the massive book in front of her. Birger waved the tangy smoke away from his nose.

The establishment’s walls were comprised of brick and its lengthy bar was built with mahogany wood. Its patrons were conversing, immersed in card games, while waitresses kept the alcohol flowing. Avery looked around, lazily blinking at his surroundings; his eyes fell on a guitar leaning against a stool by the windows. He stared at it with the same faraway look that plagued him for the last couple of weeks. Without a word, he stood up and walked over to the instrument.

The knight watched as Avery sat down on the stool and picked up the rosewood guitar. Birger snorted and looked away, indulging in a large gulp of ale.

Avery began playing. His fingers skillfully plucked at the strings. A steady, bright melody filled the bar. The prattling of the regulars hadn’t ceased, it merely hushed, and a few folks looked over at him. The crackling fire pit in the center of the room threw flickering shadows all over Avery’s relaxed form. He continued strumming a lush resonance as he slipped in some rhythmic finger taps and built upon his music. Birger felt something tighten in his chest, and he gripped his stein. He watched Avery intently. At first his music was almost austere and then it flowed into something faster and percussive.

And then he began to sing.

Birger leaned forward, completely enrapt.

The archer serenaded softly, as if only to himself, unaware of his newly charmed audience. He tapped his foot, keeping up with his own established tempo. His eyes were closed; his face focused as his bangs brushed across his eyelashes. His voice was controlled and husky, tinged with his distinctive thick vowels.

Sachie noted the awe on Birger’s face.

“You know,” she said, gently elbowing Birger, “his father’s a bard, and his mother’s a songstress. Guess they passed on more than just good looks...”

Avery sang in Tatran with his melismatic voice that caressed each syllable and faltered at the right notes. Delighted, soft murmurs pooled among the drinking men, and the women watched Avery, silent and starry-eyed as he let out a long, powerful cry—it sent shivers down Birger’s spine and brought goose bumps to Sachie’s arms.

His singing bared his soul—his very essence; Birger had never seen Avery so exposed, so magnetic. All eyes were on him, tucked away by the windows, in his own world, seemingly unaware of his talent’s captivation. His strumming never wavered, and it gathered speed as he sang with unbridled passion—high and raspy—bringing his song to a moving end. Birger was sad to hear it end.

A hush occupied the bar. Avery opened his eyes, as if a spell were lifted off of him. The patrons cheered and clapped, and Avery smiled bashfully as he set the guitar aside.

And Birger’s heart ached.

End.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for taking the time to read this! Kudos, subscriptions, and comments are welcomed and appreciated as I’m looking to make this into a web comic soon (and need some insight into whether people would be interested or not). I’ll return the favor of reviewing something (I’ll even critique something for you if you’d like—always looking to improve my editing skills).


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